


Untethered

by ThatAloneOne



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blanket Permission, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Time Shenanigans, Time Travel AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 03:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10800858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatAloneOne/pseuds/ThatAloneOne
Summary: Laura and Carmilla are both inexplicably time travelling — being dropped into strange time periods alone. Though they're from different centuries, they become each others constants. But something is wrong. They're being stranded in the past for longer and longer periods of time, and they have to figure out a way to fix it before time comes undone and they're untethered forever.





	Untethered

**Author's Note:**

> "I'll just write a quick, 500 word story," I told myself.

Time peeled away from Laura in filmy strands, scattering away into gold motes in the wind. She shivered, clasping her arms around herself. There was a harsh wind coming in, and—  

Salt. Laura smelled salt. 

Laura turned to find the sea at her back, iron grey, the sky hanging dark and heavy over it. Laura hadn’t been by the sea when she’d first felt the drowning grip of a ripple pulling her away, but that never seemed to matter. Laf had theorized it had something to do with the turn of the Earth. Laura ended up in the exact same spot, but the ground beneath her feet had rotated to match her new temporal coordinates.

If Laf was right, it was a miracle she never ended up _in_  the ocean. The single kindness of her condition. 

“Hello?” Laura tried, though it seemed silly to be speaking to cliffside and ocean. Better safe than sorry? She scuffed at the sodden sand underneath her feet, unwilling to let her arms down. She shivered, again. “Is anyone here?”

The cliffs said, in a disgruntled voice, “Why are _you_  here?”

Laura squeaked, and the startle was enough to kick in her Krav Maga instincts. Laura hadn’t thought martial arts were particularly useful before she'd first been spun back in time, but time had a way of being convincing. “Who are you?”

A woman stared over at her. Though she had her arms crossed like Laura, it seemed to be more from exasperation than the cold. She was wearing a dress straight out of a movie with a bell skirt and elaborate metallic stitching. The green fabric was darkening at the hem from contact with the damp sand. "I asked first."

Laura ignored that. “Is this a movie set?” She scanned the beach behind herself, then behind the girl. There weren’t any footprints on the sand, beside her own and a small line from the surf to the girl. “Because that doesn’t look like a practical dress for a beach. A _cold_  beach. You have bare arms!”

The girl flipped her off, then flipped the first layer of her skirts up and around her shoulders. It looked far, far warmer than the thin cotton hanging off Laura’s arms. “Believe me, if I could be wearing something else, I would be.”

Laura squinted at the tracks in the sand again. Hopefully, the other girl hadn’t noticed that her footsteps had appeared out of nowhere. That would be…. awkward. Laura's short trips to the past hadn't seen much sticking around to see the consequences of her disappearing acts, but _still_. “So… who are you, then? Forgetting you know, everything else that would make sense in a conversation.”

The girl scowled, but seemingly decided against saying something nasty. “Carmilla.” There was an echo of a lie in her voice, like she wasn’t completely convinced of her own words. “Countess Carmilla Karnstein. You are?”

A countess. Being a nobody who could time travel seemed way, way less cool in comparison. “Laura.” 

Carmilla inclined her head with all the grace of the stuck up royalty pedigree she claimed. “Whatever you say, cutie.”

“Hey!”

Carmilla snorted. Laura shivered again, finally settling her arms back around herself. It didn’t look like she was in any danger. Probably. Unless Carmilla was hiding something else under those skirts. “Are you saying you’re not cute then?”

Laura’s teeth decided to start chattering about then, which was great. “Well- ugh! No! I’m… cold.”

Carmilla stayed motionless for another second, ignoring the beat of the sea to their left. She sighed. “Fine.” Carmilla grabbed a layer of skirt, and tugged till it tore. She offered it to Laura, but Laura didn’t miss the way her hand was shaking, through cold or something else. “Here. You look like you need it more than me. I don’t want to be stuck on a deserted beach with a frozen corpse.”

Laura closed the distance between them, her feet sinking in the sand, and grabbed the cloth. It smelled like a sweater dried by the campfire, but it was thick and warm when tucked around Laura’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

Carmilla shrugged. Her layers of skirts didn't budge, against all known laws of physics. “Don’t mention it."

Laura wanted to thank her again anyway, but the time ripple crashed with the sea and her world dissolved into glittering gold.

Her room back home pieced itself back together around her, and Laura nearly screamed. She threw the skirt down on her bed, and addressed her yell to the ceiling. “Seriously? You not only send me spinning through time, but you take me away from a cute girl? When will you _stop_? This could not be any less helpful!"

  

* * *

 

For the most part, life resumed as normal. Laura went to school, argued with her father about the mandatory amount of bear spray she'd need on her person, and coped with her occasional forays into the past. She hadn’t been to the future yet, far as she could tell. The beach could have been the future, but the whole girl-in-a-medieval-dress thing didn’t seem to line up with that. 

Unless the future had a major obsession with ancient aesthetics? According to Doctor Who, anything was possible. Laura was hoping she wasn’t going to run into anything murderous in her travels. 

The weird started again when Laura saw Carmilla again. She'd barely reformed on the streets of an unknown city halfway to partying to death when she ran into Carmilla. This time, the other girl was all leather pants and corset and teased hair, like she'd found where she belonged.

They both goggled at each other for a moment — Laura more than Carmilla. For the longest time, time travel had been _hers_ , ever since she was fifteen and suddenly witnessing Secretariat win the Kentucky Derby. Talk about random. Just like Carmilla. “How are you here?”

“Gold.” Carmilla patted her chest, which was _not_  where Laura was looking. At all. It was the same sort of movement Laura was intimately familiar with — checking that everything still existed. “I turn into silver.”

If possible, Laura’s jaw dropped farther. She still felt dizzy from the dizzying spin away from her home time, and this wasn’t helping. “You time travel?”

Carmilla threw her hands in the air. She seemed more fine with this than Laura was, which was positively infuriating. “ _You_  time travel? Why didn’t you say something!”

Laura gaped, and offered the first words she could think of. They were terrible words. “I was cold!”

Carmilla ran a hand through her hair, taming it enough that she truly looked like the girl Laura had met on a beach weeks ago. “That can’t be an excuse for everything, cupcake.”

Laura pouted. This whole thing was ridiculous. “Well, I was!” She paused. “Aren’t you cold in that? It’s not exactly balmy.”

“If I’m going to be stuck time travelling around the world, I’m going to look good doing it.” Carmilla tossed her head, her eyes sparkling. Laura’s mouth went dry. “Do you want to find a place to talk? We might be here a while."

   

* * *

“Still, you didn’t tell me?”

“Listen, creampuff, you weren’t ready to blurt it out either. And I was wearing a dress from a hundred years ago. If you didn’t have the nerve, why would I?”

“Because you’re- ugh!"

 

* * *

 

“Do you know when we’ll be going home?”

“Laura, we’ll know when we know. Can’t you focus on the stars?”

“Constellations are fake, Carm. That doesn’t look like a lion! It’s a coat hanger!”

“What’s a coat hanger?”

 

* * *

“Carm?”

“It’s three in the morning, Laura.”

“I’m cold.”

“…come here.” 

 

* * *

 

“Are we friends?”

“Do you want to be?”

 

* * *

It wasn’t entirely unexpected when Carmilla loomed over Laura, her giant skirts blocking Laura's crowd-watching. It had been two or three displacements since she’d spent that two weeks with her new friend, but that was long enough to make Laura miss her. 

It was maybe dumb to get attached to someone she might never see again, but having a partner in crime for the time shenanigans was everything Laura had ever wanted. Someone to understand her. Someone to spend time with her, whenever ‘time’ was. 

Carmilla settled herself down on the seat next to Laura, arranging her skirts around her with the ease of long practice. She sounded different than when Laura had left her in New Orleans, but Laura couldn’t quite place it. More brusque? “When are you from? Originally?”

Laura shrugged. A while ago, that would have been a simple question. Twenty-first century. Easy. But now? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been back to her proper time and place for longer than a few days. Whatever flaw in the fabric of time that was causing Laura to get shunted around, it was getting worse. “Nowhere. Untethered. You?”

Carmilla sighed, and folded her hands onto that ridiculous bell skirt of hers. Laura hadn’t seen that in a while, actually. It was possible that this Carmilla had just met her, far away and far gone on a slate-skied beach. “A time of castles and courtiers.” She made a face, and Laura tried to stifle a giggle. “I hadn’t been back there for what seemed an age, but a few days ago I was unlucky enough to land back there and get stuck in _this_.” She gathered the fabric in her hands, and Laura’s fingers itched to touch it. She still had the underlay of it, back in her base time, but it had been so long since she’d felt it. “As you can tell, I’m not exactly acclimatized to that time.”

Laura snorted. That would have been an understatement. Though there was a stately rhythm to Carmilla’s speech, she didn’t use any of the odd old words Laura expected. “This isn’t exactly my time, either.” She gestured to the digital clock hanging at the other end of the airport. July 2003. “I’m from a few years from now. I mean, me as a kid exists right now, but…”

Carmilla sighed, and resettled her skirts again. Laura wondered if losing one of the petticoats had affected the fit, and if Carmilla was irritated about that. “At least you know the conventions of the times, roughly. It was difficult to learn them.”

Laura snuck another glance at the dress. “Yeah, I’d bet.” She chewed her lip, then finally reached out to tug at the edge of Carmilla’s skirts. The fabric was just as thick as she’d remembered — it had to be stifling in the stuffy airport. “Do you want me to get you some clothes that would be more comfortable? I still have some cash in my pocket from around this time period."

Carmilla’s face lit up, and she turned, her face ending up far, far too close to Laura’s. Or not close enough, Laura hadn’t decided yet. “Would you?"

“Of course!” Laura told her. She stood, and held out a hand to Carmilla. She looked ridiculous in the dress, in the middle of bustling, suited crowds. She looked beautiful. “My lady.”

“Don’t be a dolt.” Carmilla took her hand, warm and sure, and Laura definitely flushed bright red. “Lead the way. _My_  lady."

  

* * *

 

And so that’s what Laura’s floating life became. Drifting through the decades, staying alive through luck. She always managed to turn up near the things she needed — except books. And TVs. She hadn’t realized how recent an invention they were until she had no choice but to watch black and white. Or even worse, no TVs at all.

And finding any queer representation in the media? A joke. She was pretty sure it was still illegal to be herself. 

The sixties were decent. Ignoring all the raging social issues, they at least had working showers. Also TV. Laura had caught a glimpse of Star Trek in a window on her way down to the park. Somehow, it seemed even more ridiculous with how seriously everyone was taking it. The mounds of styrofoam didn't even sort of look like rocks. 

Something tickled against the back of Laura's neck, an indescribable pressure. In the air in front of her, there was a swirl of silver, forming just out of sync with the tingling pressure in Laura's chest. Carmilla tumbled out of the miniature storm in a heap, her hand touching the ground, jacket flying.

 “Untethered,” Camilla said, breathless, the silver dust still falling from her skin. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, shining and lovely. “Laura?”

Laura could only blink. Carmilla was something new — a denim jacket, covered in patches Laura couldn’t quite make out. It looked about twenty-first century make, but it was hard to be sure with denim. “Sorry?”

Carmilla’s face fell, almost imperceptibly. The excited freneticism of her movements slowed. Her smile didn’t fade, but it… changed. “Nothing. I was in the middle of saying something when I… left.”

“Right,” Laura said, unconvinced. She patted the bench next to her anyway. The sixties were wild. At least four people had flashed her a peace sign in her hours on the bench. She was never certain whether Carmilla would join her when she was displaced, but this time she had somehow been sure. “How have you been? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

Three months, eight days, and six hours. Not that she was counting. That would have been ridiculous. It was almost impossible to keep track of time when you were bouncing through it. 

Carmilla sat closer to Laura than she usually did. No matter how much time she spent in the future, she still was pretty stuck with a No Touchy Girls upbringing. At least, that was how she explained it when Laura had asked. “Oh, you know. Fine.”

“Cool!” Laura tipped her head back to stare at the sky. The sun sank through the edge of the sky, painting scarlet in its wake, but the middle of the sky was cloud-free and shining blue. “They have TV here. I figure with the way everything’s been going, I’m here for a couple weeks. I’ve always meant to watch the original Star Trek. Good time as any.”

“Do you have someplace to stay?” Carmilla laid a hand on her shoulder, and Laura jumped. It was the novelty of it. Definitely. Her stomach was having _no_  butterflies, thank you very much. “I can-“

Laura nodded. She didn’t shift away from Carmilla’s gentle touch, and her arm felt electrified. “I recognize this area, I’ve got a great uncle or something here that thinks I’m his cousin.” She snorted. “I proved myself to him last time I was here with the family bear spray recipe. Apparently paranoia is hereditary."

Carmilla snickered, then said, fond, “Of course it is.”

The silence sat with them, a friendly companion. The sun bottomed out, leaving gentle coloured clouds wafting at the horizon.

“Untethered?” Laura kept her eyes fixed on the last of the sunset, burning through the sky. The word felt familiar. “Isn’t that what I said when you asked me where I was from?  _When_ , I was from, sorry.”

Carmilla shifted away, and the lack of warmth at Laura’s side was a loss. “It’s nothing. An inside… joke. You’ll understand.”

Laura groaned. “Thanks, that was completely unhelpful.”

Carmilla nudged her, shoulder to shoulder. “Well, I have to keep some of my secrets. Otherwise I’ll lose my air of mystery, won’t I?”

Laura smacked Carmilla’s arm, laughing. “Rude!”

Carmilla snickered again, then popped to her feet. In the night, Carmilla looked ready to dissolve into silver, though Laura knew it was only the moonlight. And Carmilla, who was stunning enough to make nature bend around her. “Sorry, cutie, I have to go.”

Something in Laura’s chest twinged, and she sat straight upright. All of a sudden, the night felt a lot less friendly. “You won’t stay with me?"

Carmilla’s face contorted, somewhere between guilt, longing, and what looked like… affection? For Laura? How many _times_  had they met between the last Carmilla Laura had seen and now? “I’m… sorry. I have some things to take care of.”

“In the sixties?” Laura was trying not to be hurt, but it wasn’t working. Her uncle was kind, but nothing like Carmilla. Carmilla made her feel grounded, a sole solace in a world made of fragile gossamer. “Do you know people here? You never told me about that!”

Carmilla let out a tight breath. There was a tension in her now, one Laura didn’t like. Was Laura doing something wrong? “Look, Laura, we’re out of sync. Alright? I’m a little different. And I’m sorry.”

Laura tried not to scowl, but then decided it didn’t matter. It was dark enough that even Carmilla wouldn’t be able to properly make her out. The light from the streetlamp didn’t reach into the park. “Sorry? You’re going to abandon me?”

“ _Laura_.”

Laura swallowed her bitterness, and looked to the stars. She could see Leo now, looming. That was one thing that never changed. The nights always had the stars. And Laura always had Carmilla, curled up next to her to explain the constellations with her odd mix of seventeenth and twentieth century knowledge. “Sorry.” She bit her lip. “You’re right. You’re not… _my_  Carmilla.”

“I’m sorry,” Carmilla said again, and it seemed genuine. Laura sighed, silently. “I will see you again, though. Promise.”

“Promise?”

“On Leo,” Carmilla told her, a hand reaching for the stars, “I promise." 

 

* * *

The next time Laura ran into Carmilla was on a forested island marooned in an unknown time. At first she was almost offended at Carmilla acting like everything was fine, but then she realized this Carmilla was... _her_  Carmilla. Laura could see it in the way she was almost too shy to smile at first, and in the way her hair fell in slightly shorter waves around her shoulders.

“Hi.” Laura steadied herself on a tree, blinking furiously. The trip hadn’t exactly been pleasant — something still twisted in her stomach, like it was being wrung out. “Good to see you again."

The first smile blossomed, and Laura went red. She blamed it on the rough travel. “You too. Has it been long for you?”

“A bit.” Laura let go of the tree, finally, straightening to find Carmilla’s eyes locked on her. When Carmilla saw her looking, she glanced away, like she’d always meant to stare out at the placid lake. Laura’s heart skipped a beat. “What about you?”

Carmilla shrugged. It was eloquent, for a single movement. A while, then. “Eh. Not too long.”

Stupid past teaching people to not talk about their feelings. Because that was definitely a problem that was 100% in the past. “Do you know where we are?"

“I saw a cottage up the hill before I felt you coming and came down here.” Carmilla fidgeted, her hands brushing the sides of her pants. They were sensible things, like Laura always wore when she knew the time to transition was coming up. Neither of them wanted to be caught unprepared on a beach again, dramatic skirt bonding moments or no. “We can stay there.”

“Cool beans.” Laura’s gaze skittered off Carmilla’s. The revelation still felt entirely too new. They were friends, of course, but Carmilla was from the past. It wasn't that there weren't lesbians in the past, but Laura figured it would be statistically less likely with the whole rampant homophobia and arranged marriages thing. Also, Laura wasn't that lucky. “That means awesome.”

“I figured.” Carmilla held out a hesitant hand. “It’s a bit of a climb. I don’t know why I appeared before you, but it’s been a couple hours.”

“We’re out of sync.” Laura took Carmilla’s hand, and tried to look like she knew what she was talking about. She understood it a little better now, with some time to think. In the beginning, they’d always appeared close to the same time, and had spent only hours in their shared, scattered times. “Something’s gone funky with time. I think that’s why we’ve been stuck together longer lately.” She paused, helping pull Carmilla up a particularly large rock. Whoever had created this path had apparently believed rocks were the best aesthetic choice to ever have been invented. Laura's feet didn't agree. “Not that I mind! Spending time with you, that is. I kind of mind being stranded in the past for weeks on end. They don’t even have proper cookies!”

Carmilla tugged Laura through a last stand of trees, and they found themselves before the cottage. It was ancient, the white and teal paint peeling from the wood. It looked pretty solid, though Laura was unsure how the builders had managed to balance all the logs holding up the deck on the steep rock shelf. “I don’t mind spending time with you, either, but I agree. Something’s definitely gone wrong.”

Laura was tempted to say _how can something so wrong feel so right_ , but that was a level of cliché too far, even for her. 

 “Come on,” she said instead, reluctantly tugging her hand free to bound up the steps. Pinecones bounded off the edges, rattled loose with her steps. “Let’s see if we can find anything interesting!"

 

* * *

There were books, everywhere. A cassette tape player sat dusty in the corner, but Laura couldn’t tell if it was new or decades old. The whole place gave the feel of timelessness, as if the trees, wind, and sky were never-changing monoliths in the face of time. 

Nobody had locked the cottage's front door, like they _wanted_  someone to break in.

Carmilla stepped up to the bookshelf and read the gilded title off the largest book, so wide it was sitting near half off the shelf. “ _The Temporal Traveler — A Practical Guide_ , by Spencer Maybee.” 

“That’s not coincidental or suspicious at all. It’s not like the world is unravelling itself in time, right? That would be ridiculous.” Laura ran a finger along the shelf — more dust. Whoever used to live here had abandoned the place a while ago. The antiques scattered about the place had aged well, except for the scratchy camel-coloured carpet that kept pulling at Laura’s socks.

Carmilla snorted. “Right?” She continued along the shelf, reading as she went. There was something adorable about how invested she looked in the books. She loved them without reservation. Laura wished that Carmilla would look at her like that. 

“Okay!” Laura said out loud. “I’m going to go poke around and see if they have any food! Or find a tree to chew on! I’m hungry!”

Before Carmilla could question that, she up and ran, only tossing a “Dibs on The Temporal Traveler!” back over her shoulder. 

 

* * *

 

Wandering the ancient cottage gave Laura a chance to collect herself. There was something calming about the place in the mismatch of solid pine and rickety, almost driftwood walls. Laura checked every door she went past. So far, she'd found a dining room with two wooden ducks on the table, and three bedrooms. Laura wasn't pleased about the multiple beds. She liked having to share a sleeping space with Carmilla. Because she was hopeless.

Another few minutes search revealed the fact that the cottage did, in fact, have a kitchen. Laura could tell from the functional fridge and the cracker stuffed pantry that they were in the modern age. That was always a relief.

Carmilla was already deep in a book when Laura wandered back with Ritz Bits in tow, but she’d left The Temporal Traveler untouched.

Laura placed a box of crackers beside Carmilla, and settled in for a long haul. It was time to get a leg up on time itself.

 

* * *

 

By the time Laura had her revelation, Carmilla had relocated to the living room, sprawling in a white wicker rocking chair without a care in the world. Even though Laura stumbled over the rug twice, she stayed absorbed in her book. Usually, Laura would have considered that adorable, but she had more important things on her mind.

“We’re a symptom!” Laura said, breathless. She knew her hair was flying askew, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. “Something happened to time, knocked it on its side, and we’re the loose threads. That’s why we’re falling in and out of time!” Laura rattled the book at a startled Carmilla. It wasn't the smartest idea, given the whole ancient, priceless book thing, but Laura was too excited to care. She’d read the whole thing — for all she cared, she could use the book as a bathmat now. 

The Temporal Traveler explained _everything_. Laura didn’t know how much she’d been craving that. “And I know something happened in my time, close to when I started going back for the first time. A comet — it must’ve knocked something awry.”

The shock faded from Carmilla’s face, replaced by a soft awe. She sprang from her chair to hug Laura, hard. The book dangled from Laura’s hand behind her back. Carmilla let go, pulling back enough to stare Laura in the eyes. Hers were a bright, warm brown, even more beautiful up close. “You’re _amazing_.”

Laura went bright red, and without meaning to, her eyes dropped to Carmilla’s lips. They were so, so close. “Thank you?”

Before Laura could draw away, make a mistake, Carmilla kissed her. The book thudded to the floor, Laura’s hands drawn up against the hard lines of Carmilla’s back. They kissed like they’d known the whole time, like all these years and all this lost and lonely time had just been waiting for them to seize hold. 

“Untethered,” Laura whispered, when their lips parted. She giggled, her forehead still pressed to Carmilla’s. Even if she tried, she didn’t think she could have thought of a happier moment. Finally, she understood. “Not when I’m with you. Never when I’m with you." 

 

* * *

 

“Untethered?” Laura asked, when they found each other again, some where-and-when in Paris, the smell of pastries floating in the air. 

Carmilla smiled, unabashed, and grabbed her hand. In the fresh sunlight, she glowed near Laura's gold. “Not when I’m with you.”

They kissed in the crowd, hidden in plain sight, uncaring of the time or place. 

And so it went. And on and on. On and on. 

 

* * *

When Laura landed with her nose to a library bookcase, her whole body prickled with the feeling of unnatural coincidence. If the universe was trying to give her a hint, it needed to learn the definition of subtle. This was more like a neon sign of Read More About Your Time Problems than anything else. 

Without waiting to see if anyone had seen her materialize out of nowhere, she grabbed a book off the shelf. _Time, and the Women Who Loved It_. 

“And I love you too, time.”

Laura didn’t have to look over to see Carmilla leaning against the bookcase, evidently waiting for fate to deposit the girl she loved on her doorstep. “I’m sure time appreciates the sentiment.”

Carmilla laughed, and moved to wrap her arms around Laura. Laura clung to her back, then kissed her, soft and sweet. This time, Laura didn’t drop the precious book in her hands.

Carmilla finally pulled back, a hand still lingering on Laura’s waist. Her thumb stroked the skin under Laura’s shirt. “The books here have more detail on this kind of stuff than anything we’ve come across before, cupcake. I'll bet you anything we’re here for a reason.”

“Not just for each other?” Laura kissed Carmilla again, because she could. Though time was a blurred and incomprehensible thing, it was always far too long between meetings. “Okay, don’t give me that look. I’ll help. I even brushed up on my Latin!”

Carmilla shook her head. Laura loved her, loved her, loved her. “I’m sure you have. I’m not sure the Latin would agree, though.”

“Hey!” Laura jabbed a finger at Carmilla’s arm. The other girl laughed. “I’ll have you know that I know at _least_  seven words now.”

“Amazing."

 

* * *

Studying at the mystery library was almost like a game. Read a book, kiss a Carmilla, and read again. 

“Ha!” Laura said, after an hour. The time hardly seemed like it had passed. Only the clock on the wall reminded her of why her back was burning. She stood, pacing across the room to plop into the other chair. It was both overstuffed and threadbare, the unique library experience. “Got it. I know why we’re displaced!”

“Really?” Carmilla traced a finger along the line of the book in front of her, for all accounts uncaring of Laura’s words.  Laura could see the tilt to her head, though, the one that meant she was listening. It was amazing, to know someone so well after all the uncertainty of her life. “Does that mean we’re ready to pick a century and settle down then, cupcake?”

Laura stuck her tongue out. “No, but I'm closer.” She rapped her pencil against the cover. "The reason we’ve been jumping around is because of something destabilizing time. Something where it shouldn’t be — in the future.”

“The future,” Carmilla said, and flipped her page. Laura grinned at her, even though she knew Carmilla wouldn’t be able to see. It was the thought that counted. “Your future? My future?”

“ _Our_  future,” Laura reminded her. “Well, I mean, the time between us? There have been interferences all across the timeline. Constant incidents that keep the universe from self-correcting.”

“The future, though?” Carmilla’s finger had stalled on her page entirely. A good sign. Laura could almost hear her mind whirring away. “How would that mess with the past?”

Laura gave a large, eloquent shrug that she’d learned from Carmilla, and flopped back into the chair. It made a sound halfway between a sigh and tear. “No clue. I'm only accidentally acquainted with temporal physics.”

“Amazing,” Carmilla muttered again, and closed her book. There was enough affection in her eyes for Laura to drown in. “So, what do we do to correct it?”

Laura tapped the next book in the pile. _The Traveler’s Guide to Paradox — Volume Two_. “That’s what _this_  book is for.”

 

* * *

“It’s us,” Carmilla said. The books laid like dead things all around the study room, littered in sticky notes, scraps of paper, and empty hot chocolate cups. “We’re the twist in the fabric. We’re what’s causing it to tear.”

The book in front of Laura was shaking — or maybe it was her trembling hands. Laura shook her head, the words in her lap swimming into nothingness. Everything had become crystally, horrifyingly clear. “It’s not us.”

“Laura?” Carmilla’s voice was soft, caring. The best of her from the best of them, all built up together. They’d done this, even through the universe warping around them. Laura loved her so, so much. “Laura, what’s wrong?”

Her tears began falling in earnest, and Laura barely managed to close the book before she ruined it. “Carm… It isn’t us. It’s you.” She cleared her throat, still not looking up. “You’re from before me in the timestream. I’ve never been to the future from my base time — you have. Your future, the one between us… that’s what’s been continuing to pull everything apart.”

Laura shook her head, swiped at her eyes. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t make this worse. They couldn't do anything else, not with everything falling to pieces around them. “If this is right, you'll reset to your most recent point in your time stream, and within a few weeks, I’ll settle back home permanently too.” Home seemed like such a foreign concept. This was home, this meaningless brick and mortar that sheltered her and Carmilla. Together.

Carmilla swallowed, hard. Her hands bunched in her lap, and Laura could practically see the dark green cloth in them, wet at the end from the beach they’d met on. From the end, to the beginning. But this time, there would be no hop-skip-jump through time to reunite. “Will I remember?"

Laura finally found the strength to look up. Carmilla was frozen over her books, her eyes old in a way that was more than just her seventeenth century upbringing. They’d wanted to solve this, of course they did, but they never, ever thought it would be like this. Before today, everything had pointed to the two of them being able to build a home, whenever they wanted. “I don’t know.”

“We never should have met, anyway.” Carmilla twisted her fingers together, painfully tight. Laura wanted more than anything to reach out to her, but every part of her body was screaming. “I should never have fallen for you. A naive, provincial girl. Entirely too tightly wound. Such a cliché. I ought’ve known better.”

“It doesn’t have to be now. Carm-“

Carmilla shook her head. The same long, tumbling hair that Laura had seen on her when she’d accidentally met her future self. Had she been from now? No. She would never have smiled at Laura if she knew she was about to lose everything. “No. Just- It’s better. We should have known it would never have worked out that easily. What’s the alternative? If we wait too long, we’ll never find each other again anyway.” Carmilla took a long breath. “Some things can’t be mended past a certain point, Laura. Do you want to risk time being like that, for me?”

_Yes_ , Laura wanted to say, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t _breathe_. 

With slow, deliberate movements, Carmilla stood, and shucked her jacket. It was the same one she’d been wearing when Laura had heard the word _untethered_  from her mouth from the first time. She still remembered buying it from a thrift store and stitching the patches onto it as a record of their adventures. One from every decade they’d been to, together.

Then Carmilla held it out, folded in a neat pile. “Here.” 

Laura didn’t move. She couldn’t move. Her heart pounded, hard enough that her pressed-together hands vibrated with it. Her throat bobbed. “I can’t— It’s _yours_.”

Carmilla shrugged, a half movement. Her hand was shaking, same as it had the first time she’d offered her skirt to Laura. “I can’t keep it where I’m going.” When Laura didn’t move, she stepped closer, until she was looming over her, like she had when they’d met that second time in the airport. Her voice cracked. “ _Please_."

With numb fingers, Laura took hold of the coat, still warm from Carmilla’s body. It felt like she was watching the whole scene underwater, from a great distance. Carmilla half smiled at her, the same quirked look she’d been giving Laura since the beginning. The same look that had made Laura fall in love. “It’s a nice time to go back to, at least. It’s my eighteenth birthday when I go back — Mother’s been planning my ball for weeks."

Age was meaningless after so much time floating. They were both far older than they were, though they never looked it. Laura stood, unsteady as a newborn horse. Her legs shook. “Do you think they’ll be mad you lost your green dress?"

Another infinitesimal movement. Maybe a shrug. Maybe a nod. Laura could see Carmilla shuttering, folding away into herself. “I will see, I suppose.” Her chest rose and fell, once, twice. “How do I do it?”

Laura scrabbled for the book. They’d known their time together had a limit, they always had. But it was always with the promise of another day, another coincidence that would lead them to a week, a month together. This was forever. “You know how we managed to direct ourselves, sometimes? When you can feel the ripple coming?” Laura could feel it now, horribly timed as always. The pages of the books left open fluttered with the force of it. “Just… don’t fight it. We’ve always been fighting it. Because we’re scared. Because we were alone.” Her eyes caught Carmilla’s, brimming with unshed tears. “Because we didn’t want to be where we were anymore. Just… let go."

Carmilla nodded, and Laura forced enough movement to kiss her cheek. She didn’t think she’d be able to survive if she’d done anything more — if she really, truly felt was she was losing. Laura could feel the pressure brimming behind her breastbone, see the sparkling gold building in the corners of her vision. It was time. 

Time. An awful, awful thing. 

“Time to tether myself,” Carmilla said, and closed her eyes. Silver wove around her, a wonder of moonlight and magic and time made solid. Gold swept with it, and Laura reached, one last time. 

Her fingers didn’t quite reach— 

And they were both gone. 

 

* * *

  

* * *

 

* * *

 

Laura kind of wanted to throw her phone at the wall, but she refrained. _Someone_  had to listen to her about Betty! Honestly, what was wrong with her life? Wasn’t one painful mystery enough? Why was Laura hovering at the beginning of another?

And that’s when her door creaked open. Laura seethed. She just knew who it was. Her new roommate. Because people were replaceable, apparently. She wouldn’t even notice Betty was gone!

 “Um,” Laura said, and didn’t move, refusing to give the new roommate the satisfaction of a look. She pulled all her decades of almost-time experience into sounding as exasperated as possible. “Who the hell are you?”

“Laura?”

Time — precious, unruly time — slowed to stop around her. In that moment, Laura could almost swear she saw the long-gone golden shimmer in the corners of her vision.

Laura spun on her chair, the phone in her hands clattering to the floor. Carmilla was standing in the doorway to her room, leather pants and all. Laura's useless mouth stumbled on ahead of her, operating on the hope large enough to send her spinning back through time all over again. “Untethered?"

“Not when I’m with you,” Carmilla whispered, and Laura launched herself into Carmilla’s arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to LMoriarty as usual, for being the first to read this and catch everything wrong with it. 
> 
> You can join me at writerproblem193.tumblr.com, where I'm recovering from writing this all in one day. I'm taking prompts, if you want to see me write something small! I hope you enjoyed the ride. You're free to translate or podfic this, just tell me so that I can be all excited about it!


End file.
